


kisses are a better fate

by Somedeepmystery



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fingering, Oral Sex, Sex, bodyguard illya, dancer gaby, forbidden relationship, matchmaking solo?, stalker mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24773998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedeepmystery/pseuds/Somedeepmystery
Summary: "What she wasn’t prepared for, was how badly she could want one man in particular, or for that one man to be the one she absolutely could not have."
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Gaby Teller
Comments: 21
Kudos: 137





	kisses are a better fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Turningleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turningleaf/gifts).



> Hi, it's me again. So, I wrote this story for Turningleaf LAST year for her birthday and gave it to her last minute in what was basically zero draft condition. She has been harassing me to get it ao3 ready since then and well, hopefully I have FINALLY accomplished that goal. (Thank you for all the help and inspiration you bring TL. <3)
> 
> The idea of bodyguard Illya has been floating around the fandom in a few forms since the early days, and the last thing I want to do it step on any ones toes there. I am pretty sure the premise of this will not interfere with any other versions of Illya as Gaby's bodyguard that people have. And listen, more is better really, give it all to us please. Right?
> 
> Title from the poem "since feeling is first" by e.e. cummings. "...and kisses are a better fate than wisdom..."

Gaby wasn’t a fool. She wasn’t a child who longed for freedom and didn’t understand the consequences of her actions. She understood the threat against her, knew she needed protection. But this was going too far.

She jumped when the man she was speaking with jerked back in the middle of his sentence. His hands scrabbled at his throat before he was hefted from his seat and tossed aside like a sack of flour. His body slid several feet across the hardwood floor of the bar and collided with one of the nearby tables.

Gaby leapt off her chair and spun with a growl toward the man responsible. “What the hell!” 

Her bodyguard, Illya Kuryakin, was too busy glowering at her former companion to give her his attention. She tried to shove past him but the man was a wall. 6’5”, 220 pounds– her efforts were futile. She stepped back and glared up at him instead. “Let. Me. By.”

“Is not safe.”

“Illya, he’s just a guy. A guy at a bar that I was–” she quickly checked what she was about to say, “–enjoying a conversation with.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her. Despite the scowl, she couldn’t label his blue eyes cold. Especially when they were burning into her with barely restrained fury. “He put his hands on you.”

“ _One_ hand.” Gaby crossed her arms too, mirroring him, and stood up to her full height, all five foot six inches of her, plus heels. “What makes you think I didn’t want him to?” She took some small gratification in watching the muscles in his jaw flex. 

“That would be bad idea.”

“What is going on here?” Napoleon Solo, her second bodyguard and Illya’s partner, hurried over. When he didn't get a response, he looked at each of them in turn. “Well?”

Gaby shook her head. “You need to remind your partner that I am a human being.”

Illya wasn’t having that and leaned forward into her space. “I am well aware that you are human. Your agency hired me to protect you.”

“That isn’t what I meant and you know it!” She growled and bunched her hands into fists to keep from smacking him. “I am a woman, fully grown. I get to say who touches me, who I spend time with. Your job is to make sure I am safe WHILE I am... socializing! Not keep me from it! I have needs, damn it!”

“Yes, you _need_ to be protected,” he growled back. 

“I need to get _laid_!” 

A smile flitted over Solo’s face—quickly tucked away—and Illya’s ears went pink. He huffed a breath out through his nose and turned, looking out over the bar. Gaby’s eye caught on the corner of his jaw, the shadow of stubble there and then looked away. Fuck him.

_Yes, let’s_ , a traitorous part of her mind whispered. She flexed her jaw and crossed her arms again as if it could shield her from the effect his nearness had on her system. That pulse of _wanting_ she’d been fighting for months now. 

“Gaby,” Solo offered, using a conciliatory tone his partner could never manage to affect. “I understand what you’re saying, but Illya is right. Until we find the person responsible for the threats against you, we can’t exactly let you be alone with a random stranger.”

“ _Solo_ ,” she began, her tone a warning, but she held it back begrudgingly. He had a point. Her gaze flicked to the guy she’d been trying to pick up. He was on his feet and having a tense discussion with the bouncer– who turned to look their way. _Great_. 

“I know,” he said, holding up his hands to her. “We’ll discuss it–”

“Excuse me?” Illya interjected, finally turning his focus back to the conversation, but Solo ignored him.

“--Come up with a plan.”

“I’m agreeing, for _now_ ,” Gaby replied, making her displeasure clear.

“I did _not_ agree–”

“But I can’t live like this.” She looked Illya in the eye as she finished.

“At least you are _alive_.” Illya’s tone was smug and she glared at him as she grabbed her purse off the bar and shouldered past him, headed toward the door. 

…

“This isn’t happening.” Illya pushed away the paperwork Solo had dropped in front of him.

“We’ve done this for our male principles before,” Solo insisted, pushing it right back at him. “What makes this different?”

Illya flexed his jaw but couldn’t respond. He looked down at the stack of background checks Solo had run on male escorts in the area and his stomach twisted. What made it different? 

“Because she’s a woman?” Solo pressed.

“No!” He retorted. _Because she’s Gaby. Because she deserves more than this._ He couldn’t say those reasons though. He wouldn’t allow himself to be compromised by having feelings for his principle. It was impermissible. Not only was it unprofessional, it was unsafe, messy. It brought in far too many variables, too many distractions, and if he admitted it – even to himself – he would have to take himself off of her detail. That idea was– it was _unacceptable_. “It has nothing to do with her being a woman.” 

Solo was looking at him with skepticism so he latched onto the first truth that popped into his head. “I was never a fan of this option in the first place, as you well know.”

“Illya, the woman deserves to have a life or else why are we bothering to save it?”

He squeezed one of his hands into a fist. Of course she did. She deserved... he sighed. When would they find the stalker? That was the only way to truly solve the problem. Until then... His gaze fell to the files. “I will look them over.” 

…

Gaby tried not to stare at Illya’s hands as they turned his cup of coffee around and around on the scarred bistro table. It was an idle thing he did all the time, turning his cup between drinks, whether that cup was ceramic or styrofoam. She had seen those hands do many things since he had begun guarding her– punch a man in the face, fire a gun. They’d helped an old woman step up onto the curb, and rescued a cat from a tree. She had taken one of them numerous times as he helped her from vehicle after vehicle, felt the weight of one on the small of her back as he ushered her through a crowd, and watched those long fingers wrap, cool but steady, around her ankle as he once replaced her fallen shoe. Still, _this_ was one of the things she found most distracting. The way his fingers curved, the blunt tips shuffling along the surface of the mug...

She bit her lip and looked away. Damn this man and his effect on her. It was frustrating, to say the least. 

When the stalker had first made their appearance, Gaby had just ended a fairly long relationship. Her last boyfriend hadn’t been able to deal with her rise in fame, revealing himself to be the douche bag she should have seen he was from the beginning. The break up meant she hadn’t been in the mood to date, hadn’t even thought of the implications in that area when her manager, Alexander Waverly, had suggested hiring protection services. 

Now though, now she felt ready, at least to resume sexual activity. _God_ she missed sex. She was tired of getting herself off with her fingers, quietly in the bedroom. What she wasn’t prepared for, was how badly she could want one man in particular, or for that one man to be the one she absolutely could not have. 

“Are you feeling all right today?” Gaby blinked up at him, pulled from her thoughts by the deep rumble of his voice. “You seemed distracted during your practice.”

She _had_ been distracted. She was horny beyond reason. Every stretch of muscle, every point of her toes and lift of her leg had begged for touch. All she could think about was having hands on her: her thighs, her belly, her breasts. Like her skin was alive with hunger. She swallowed, glanced at Illya’s hands again. “I’m fine. Just a little more on edge than usual I guess.”

He frowned. “You are safe, Gaby. I will keep you safe. Don’t let this interfere with your dancing.”

His concern was a little too touching. It rankled, along with the realization that she _felt_ safe... so utterly safe with him that she couldn’t even put it into words. No one had ever made her feel that way before. He didn’t deserve that power. She leaned forward and settled her chin in her palm, looking at him carefully. 

“I don’t mean _that_ kind of on edge,” she goaded. 

It was a moment before he followed her meaning and she grinned as his ears went pink again, just like at the bar. _What a wonderful little discovery_. She sat back in her seat with a smirk as he looked away.

…

Illya shook his head. “It _is_ different because she is a woman and you know why.” 

Solo was giving him that look again. They were on their way to replace the relief team at Gaby’s apartment and Illya twisted his hands on the steering wheel as he wove through traffic. He had gone over the files, even found more options, but he couldn’t bring himself to approve of any of them. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He was glad to have a reasonable excuse. It wasn’t jealousy, he insisted to himself, it was practicality.

Solo sighed and looked out the window. “I hate to admit it but, damn, you’re right. The size and strength difference is difficult to ignore.”

Illya nodded, glad to have his partner’s agreement. 

“Still, it _is_ part of our job to make sure her needs are met.” Solo drummed his hands on the car door. Illya felt a sense of foreboding slide down his spine. “I guess that leaves someone from our team.”

“What?” Illya’s voice was half strangled. 

“It’s the safest choice.”

“Are you suggesting...”

“It can’t be you, obviously, but she’s hardly hideous. I’m sure one of them will volunteer...”

Illya’s body went taut, his mind reeling. Imagery bombarded his thoughts as he struggled with a tangle of undecipherable responses. Solo was still speaking but Illya was no longer hearing when he managed to choke out the only thing that his brain had been able to separate from the rest. “Why can’t it be me?”

Solo didn’t even pause to reflect. “You’re far too much a stickler for the rules with no concept of bending.”

Illya’s face was on fire; his entire _being_ was on fire.

“You know,” Solo continued. “Just to make things easy, I volunteer. Less mess or awkwardness with the emplo–”

A vision filled Illya’s mind: his hands leaving the steering wheel, closing around Solo’s throat, choking off those words, strangling even the thought from the man’s mind. Instead, he squeezed the steering wheel even tighter, his knuckles going white, blood rushing in his ears. He felt his mouth moving but could hardly hear the words as he spoke, wasn’t even sure where they were coming from or how his voice could be so steady as he spoke them. 

“I am perfectly capable of bending the rules when necessary.”

Solo tipped his head to the side and then nodded. “That settles it then. It’ll be you.”

Illya jerked his head to look at him and the car followed, cutting across the parallel lane to a chorus of angry honking. _“What?_ ”

There was a smirk hiding at the corner of Solo’s mouth when he replied but Illya was not in a mindset to take notice. “ _You_ have sex with Gaby. It's even less messy. You can’t sue yourself.”

Illya stared at the road ahead, breathing heavily. 

“Better make it soon though. I’m worried she’s going to try sneaking off next.” Solo’s hand slapping down onto his shoulder felt like an electric shock. “And make sure you get the job done—if you know what I mean.”

…

He had expected some sort of reprieve. Surely they would discuss this further and he could make Solo see reason. This was a bad idea, a _very_ bad idea... as he looked across the room at Gaby, dressed in her post dance clothing, a mist of sweat still clinging to her temples, he felt how deeply he wanted to seize that very bad idea. 

_Not like this_ , that part of him he had been denying insisted. He pushed it aside. It wasn’t happening any–

“Well, Gaby, I’m happy to say, we’ve come up with a solution,” Solo announced as soon as the other team had left. He walked across the room and handed her a small gift bag Illya hadn’t noticed before.

“What are you–” He stopped, his eyes going wide as Gaby pulled a handful of condoms from inside.

She held them up. “Are you taunting me right now, Solo?” she asked. “I hadn’t thought you were the type.”

Solo’s smile was all charm, meanwhile Illya was shaking his head, his heart racing.

“Not at all, darling! I wouldn’t do that to you. Illya and I have gone over your problem very thoroughly and have come up with the best solution.” He grabbed Illya by the shoulder and shoved him forward. “After all that consideration, we have decided that Illya is the best choice for the job.”

Illya was at once struck with both a desire to sink into the floor and the desperate need to somehow read her mind. 

“What!?”

Gaby’s voice was shrill, her eyes darting between her two bodyguards. 

She couldn’t possibly have heard what she thought she had heard. This wasn’t happening. Was this happening? Illya’s entire face was pink, not just his ears, and he was staring hard at the floor like he wanted to sink into it. 

Solo looked like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. She focused her eyes on him and made a face to show her utter confusion. He stepped into her space and settled a hand on her arm as he leaned in to murmur in her ear, “You’re welcome.”

_What!_

She felt all the blood rush from her face as she jerked back from him. No. No way. He didn’t know, there was no way he knew... but as he headed toward the door and looked over his shoulder at her, she saw it was true. He _did_ know and he had artfully trapped her. The gall of the man. Her eyes cut at him. 

“In light of that, I am going to make myself comfortable in the hallway,” he said blithely. “Feel free to take your time.”

She felt the rise and fall of her chest as he shut the door, leaving her completely alone with Illya. When she turned, she found him looking at her but his eyes were unreadable. 

“This is your idea of a solution?” she spit out folding her arms to hide the fact that her hands were shaking. 

“I– it was decided to be the safest option,” he said haltingly. “Someone from your team, someone we could trust–” 

_Someone_... she felt it like a punch and huffed out a laugh to cover it. “So you throw yourself on the sword then.”

He frowned. “That is not–”

She turned away from that face. “Honestly, I’d rather have Solo.” It was only half a lie. It would certainly have hurt less than this, but god... she thought of his hands turning the cup... 

Illya sucked in a breath and she saw him stand up straighter from the corner of her eye. She knew the signs of him preparing to fight and turned back, lifting her chin, relishing the idea. 

“It will be me or no one.”

He was so smug! Her eyes flared as she stared him down. Did he think it was going to be that easy? Ha! She let her gaze trail over him from head to toe, adjusting her stance.

“Fine.”

He paused and Gaby felt a spark of victory at having caught him by surprise. 

“Fine.” His voice was hard and Gaby wondered what exactly they were saying fine to.

“ _Fine!_ ” she repeated, her voice even more firm but shifting on her feet.

Illya folded his arms now. “Fine.”

Gaby felt a swoop in her stomach at the deep rich tone of his voice, the sternness of his expression. She looked at him intently, desire for him warring with that petty feeling inside her that said he was just doing his job. There was something in his eyes– that pale blue that should be icy but instead seared into her like the center of a flame –something that had nothing to do with doing his job.

She moved to the glass of vodka she had poured just before he and Solo had arrived. Her nightcap. Her drink to wind down after the rush of performing. Cradling it in her palm, she turned and looked him over one more time, hoping he couldn’t see the way her pulse was pounding at the base of her throat. She shot back the entire glass and set it down with a sharp thunk. Illya shifted ever so slightly. 

“Fine.” The word was light on her tongue, but more challenge than any of the others. She unzipped her hoodie with surprisingly steady fingers, and tossed it aside. She wore nothing beneath, as was her tendency after the restriction of her performance costumes. Illya’s eyes went wide as her skin was revealed but she didn’t stop, quickly shucking off her lounge pants as well, leaving her completely bare in front of him. 

His lips parted and she heard his breath leave in a rush. The reaction was oddly steadying. 

She poured herself another drink and turned back to him. “Well?” She cocked a naked hip, crossing one arm over her exposed belly and using it to support the one holding her drink. “Aren’t you going to do anything? Or don’t you know what to do with a naked woman?”

He was looking at her body, eyes taking her in with the same attention she’d seen him use to assess a room. It sent a jolt through her system, nerves and lust in a hot rush. She had a highly toned dancer’s body and she’d caught him watching her more than once. But it would be easy to mistake an appreciation of dance for a more carnal interest. Did Illya want something else in a woman? Did he prefer large breasts and hips he could really grab onto? 

The internal questioning ended when his eyes lifted to hers and the heat in them was nearly enough to scorch her. She swallowed as she watched a line of resolve settle over him. He strode toward her and it was only the intensity of his gaze pinning her in place that kept her from taking a step back. He didn’t break that gaze, even as he took the glass from her hand and swallowed the vodka before setting the glass out of sight. She gasped when he lifted her into his arms. The warmth of his body tantalized her through the fabric of his suit and the scent of him surrounded her as he carried her on long legs to the bedroom. 

Gaby’s heart was beating a wild tattoo as he tossed her onto her mattress. The gift bag from Solo landed beside her a moment later, spilling its contents across the end of the bed. She hadn’t even realized he had grabbed it. Pushing up onto her elbows, Gaby watched, stunned, as Illya dropped to his knees beside her bed. His hands hooked behind her calves and she was on her back again as he tugged her forward until her ass was almost hanging off the side. 

She could hear her blood racing, the rush of fear and excitement electrifying her senses, making her giddy. Illya hooked her legs over his shoulders, first one then the other and she held her breath as the large hands she had been dreaming about slid up the outside of her thighs to her hips. His hot breath ghosted over her inner thigh and she trembled, anticipation spiking bright and sharp in her chest, her belly, her cunt. 

Then his mouth was on her. His nose brushing her bare mons, his tongue, hot and wet, laving over her entrance and she couldn’t stop the groan that escaped her as she arched up into it. He hummed, and the buzz of sound cascaded over her skin, making her gasp and shunt her hips again. One broad palm settled on her belly, holding her down and she whimpered, lifting her head to look, to see it there like she had in the late night fantasies she’d tried to forbid herself from having. 

It was the sight of Illya’s face though that caught her attention, mesmerized her in an instant. Eyes closed, his long lashes resting against flushed cheeks. Her heart nearly stopped as he drew back a moment, licked his lips and then pressed back in, this time deeper, burning her with pleasure. She choked on a sob as the tip of his nose glanced over her clit and his tongue lapped at the opening of her cunt, dipping just inside over and over. It was too much and nowhere near enough. It taunted her even as it sent her hunger soaring. She flopped back onto the bed with a sharp swear, and brought a hand up to slide into his hair as she tried to fight his grip and put his mouth where she needed it most. 

He growled – god, the sensation of it had a cry slipping from her throat – and stayed where he was, pushing his tongue a little deeper inside, drinking her up like a cat after cream. 

“Oh _fuck_ ,” she moaned, tossing her head on the pillow, “Shit, Illya–” Her voice caught in her throat, back lifting up uselessly. “ _Please..._ ”

With a whimper of sound that made her belly clench, his tongue shifted, swirling up over her labia to the swell of her needy clit. Her fingers in his hair tightened as she keened, a shudder running through her at finally having his touch right where she wanted it. He licked at her– long, intent strokes with the flat of his tongue. Gaby’s hips bucked into the pressure of their own accord but she was held fast, a prisoner to the brace of his palms and completely at the mercy of his mouth. She cursed and groaned, her head thrashing. 

Her orgasm built inside her like a fast rising tide. The power of it swirled at her senses, stronger, higher, closing her in. She gasped as it swept through her, a hot rush, dragging her under and rolling her in its undertow. Her body writhed but Illya stayed with her, the heat of his mouth a steady constant that kept the wave going so much longer than she thought possible. 

The onslaught receded, leaving her body so warm, humming bright–but then Illya’s mouth was still there, sipping at the frilled skin of her labia, teasing just enough to keep her from coming all the way back down and she swallowed a gasp as she felt him change his grip. She lifted her head and found his eyes on her, hot and vivid in the rose colored light of her lamp. It struck her, that look, a sharp sting of yearning that pierced her chest. Her eyes flew wide, her mouth dropping open on the first syllable of his name as his shoulders shifted, widening her thighs and he pushed two fingers inside her, closed his burning mouth over her clit, and sucked at it with a low voiced moan.

Her entire body arched off the bed, her hand releasing his hair as her arms flung out to the sides to steady herself. The sound she made was animalistic but she couldn’t keep it in, couldn’t rein in the way her body reacted, rising and falling with the pulse of his fingers. She was completely lost, out of control, assaulted by the pleasure of it. Fervent and electric, the orgasm lifted her up and shoved her under this time, a violent pulse that stole her breath and brought tears to her eyes. Illya’s fingers curved inside her and she shook, her body jerking in his hold. She went limp in the aftermath, the strength of climax leaving behind honey in her veins. She felt him shift her back onto the mattress as she fought to catch her breath. 

Bringing up a hand to push the hair from her sweat dampened face, Gaby watched him stand to his feet and take a step back. He licked his lips, then wiped them with the back of his hand and she realized he was still fully dressed in his suit, his dark jacket straight, his tie still in place. He seemed completely untouched except for where her hand had gripped his hair leaving it standing up on his scalp. 

She pushed up to her elbows, looking him over, her eyes catching on the bulge of his cock, the ridged line of it visible beneath the dark fabric of his slacks. When she lifted her eyes, his gaze was on her, something uncertain hiding there. Gaby bit her lip and held those eyes with hers. 

“Undress,” she commanded, her voice rough with the effects of the pleasure he had given her. “I want to see the body you have been hiding under all those suits.”

He didn’t answer, or move to obey and Gaby felt a flutter of nerves resurface in spite of the residual hum of release in her muscles. She pushed up to her knees and faced him. He hadn’t gone far and she saw him glance down at her body before fixing his focus on her face again. I gave her the boost of confidence she needed. 

She saw him swallow. “Gaby, I–” 

She reached out and grabbed his long necktie, gripping it firmly, and used it to pull him close. He came without resistance, his knees pressing into the side of her mattress. Keeping hold of the satiny fabric in her fist, Gaby ducked her head and kissed beneath the corner of his jaw. She felt him exhale, a small tremor to the breath. 

“I lied,” she murmured, the barest hint of stubble catching against her lips. 

He still wasn’t touching her, his arms at his sides, body held stiffly. She lifted her head to get a peek at him, his eyes were at half mast, lips gently parted. She tipped her head to the other side, leaned in, let her breath hover over his skin. She pressed her lips there too, feeling the race of his pulse beneath the surface.

“When I said I would rather have Solo,” she continued softly. His breath caught and she smiled as she traced the tip of her nose along his throat. “I lied.” She pushed an open mouthed kiss against his Adam's apple and felt him groan. All the tension left him and she tilted her head back just to be caught in both his hands. His fingers slid into her hair, his eyes scanning her face before he bent down to claim her in a hard, hungry kiss. 

Gaby opened her mouth beneath the assault and shoved her hands up over his shoulders, pushing his jacket away. He released her long enough to let it fall but then grabbed her again, cupping her head and tilting her at the angle he wanted as his tongue delved into her mouth. She whimpered into the kiss, fingertips digging in as she fought to stay upright. She kissed him back just as ardently, lips crushed together, teeth clashing. 

She traced the line of his shoulder holster and pushed a hand beneath it before pulling back just enough. “Off Illya, off, I want you naked. I want you naked _now_.”

His response was a growl and hands stripping away the straps of the holster as her fingers pulled at the knot in his tie. Together they worked the buttons, stripped away his shirt, his trousers, his other weapons, Gaby unable to keep her hands in line when his cock was revealed. She pushed his underwear over his hips and took the taut line of his erection in hand, taking its measure, feeling its weight, and not finding it wanting. 

“ _Fuck_ …” He breathed the word out and it thrilled her, that small loss of control, the way his breath shuddered, then he was tipping her over onto her back, rising up over her as they both reached for a condom. Gaby had hers out first and Illya tossed the extra aside as she reached down to roll it onto him. Her eyes traced the line of his chest, his abs, hard lean muscle and dark golden chest hair. He was so beautiful she could weep. She squeezed him through the condom and told him so. Then he was taking her hand and pinning it over her head, stretching her out beneath him as that broad cock pushed inside her. 

It wasn’t gentle, but her body was more than ready. He tugged at her thigh, curling an arm under her knee and lifting her leg with his second thrust, sliding hard and deep. She cried out, arching up into it and heard him moan in response. Cupping a hand around the back of his neck, she stared up at him, entranced by the working of the muscles in his jaw, the lush sweep of his lower lip, the way he looked down their bodies to watch his cock disappear inside her. Her fingers flexed against his skin, her breathing coming in quick bursts as the rough snap of his hips had his cock striking something inside her, something intense and dazzling. The unrelenting rhythm pushed her into her third orgasm, catching her by surprise. Her mouth fell open on a silent cry as she arched into him, her breasts rubbing against his chest. The way his cock filled her, snug and perfect, meant she could feel the pulse of her body around him, feel the roll of it shuddering through her again and again. 

“Yes, Gaby,” he said, his voice a rasp of sound. “Just like that,” and he murmured something in Russian she had no hope of understanding.

He slowed the pulse of his hips, sinking deep and holding there. Gaby blinked her eyes open to look at him and was caught in the way his gaze met hers. He was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him and the way he was watching her– She’d seen this level of focus in him before but not like this, not aimed at her with such intent. The tenderness in his gaze, the warmth of his body lined with hers... an emotion she could not define opened up inside her, something real and whole and soft, something irrevocable. 

Her breath stuttered as the hand on her thigh released her, sliding up over her hip, her ribs, to cup her jaw. His thumb brushed feather-light over her cheek. He shifted and she hooked her leg over his hip, it created a small thrust and she bit her lip as he sucked in a breath. His gaze fell to her mouth and he ducked to kiss her– tender, careful. When he drew back that focus had returned as he looked into her eyes. 

“Illya,” she whispered. Her throat felt tight, her heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the way his cock filled her. She adjusted her other hand in his grip so their fingers were laced. He sucked in a breath, his fingers flexing in hers. Gaby lifted up to his mouth, bit his chin, wanting him to move, needing it with an unprecedented desperation. He hummed, dragging his hand down to her breasts, brushing a calloused thumb over her nipple. He kissed her and she pulsed her hips into his, swallowing the sound he made. He started moving again, one long stroke and then another, the rhythm changed, slower, more purposeful. Gaby’s heels pressed to the backs of his thighs as she matched him thrust for thrust. 

His cock still felt perfect inside her, deliciously perfect, but it was the gasp of his breath that had the heat rising in her blood again. She bit her lip and sighed his name. He murmured something she couldn’t hear then scooped her up to hold her flush against him. Gaby gasped at the feel of it, buried her face in the column of his throat and licked the sweat she found there, breathed in the scent of him. Pushing a broad palm against the small of her back, he sank deeper still and she whimpered, moaned, clung to him. 

His breathing was coming quicker now, his hips shifting faster. He growled against her temple and it was like a spark inside her. She wanted him to let go, wanted to witness his pleasure, his loss of control. Wanted to be the one who brought him there. The desire almost went beyond sex, but she couldn’t name it.

“Yes, Illya,” she gasped into his shoulder. “Come.”

He said her name, his breath stuttering, the rhythm of his hips faltering. 

“Give it to me,” she demanded, her chest tight, the greed for it nearly choking her. “Come, Illya. I _want_ it.”

A cry escaped him, sharp and sweet and he yanked her hips tight to his, holding himself to the hilt inside her. His body shuddered as he came, his moan of pleasure vibrating through her gratifying beyond anything she had expected. She cupped the back of his head and held him close. Kissed his throat and the soft lobe of his ear.

For a moment, he curled himself around her, his breathing slowly growing more steady, then he shifted onto his side, bringing her with him even as he withdrew his cock from inside her. She closed her eyes at the sensation and bit her lip. 

“Illya...” she started to say but he stopped her with a kiss, his mouth warm and achingly tender. She sank into the sweetness of it, went in for more when he pulled away. After several more kisses, he pressed his forehead to hers and brought their still clasped hands between them. He kissed her fingers and looked into her eyes. 

“I’ll be right back.”

Gaby nodded, biting her lip as he rolled away and released her hand. She looked at her fingers, reddened and imprinted from his grip and felt her heart trip with emotion. Stunned, she turned to watch him disappear through the door, her heart a zinging, fluttery mess. How had this happened? _When_ had this happened? How had she not known she felt this way? 

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until he reappeared a moment later. He was still gloriously naked but something had changed and she felt her chest tighten. She stared up at him as he walked back toward the bed, his face reserved, his eyes shuttered. 

Her heart was pounding as the light feeling in her chest twisted into anxiety.

_...it was decided to be the safest option...someone we could trust..._ Is that all this had been? Part of the job?

_No._

She didn’t realize she’d said the word out loud until he stilled, his knee on the mattress. There was a twitch in his jaw before he drew back with a nod. “Right, I should probably go.”

He turned away and panic rushed over her, nearly stealing her breath. “ _Don’t—_ “ she grabbed his wrist and squeezed, feeling the bones beneath his skin, the pain in her knuckles as she increased her grip. He turned instantly, his brow furrowed. “Don’t pull away _now_. Don’t leave me here.”

“What?” His voice was filled with concern. He searched her face before locking his eyes on hers. “Gaby?” 

Her wide, dark eyes stared back at him. “Don’t leave me here alone, I–”

Illya’s frown deepened. He scrambled onto the bed, bouncing her with his weight and pulled her onto his lap. “You’re trembling. What is wrong? ” 

“I didn’t know.” She pressed the words into the skin of his shoulder. “Maybe I didn’t _want_ to know–”

Illya’s body tensed and he took her face in his hands and searched her lost expression with a deepening frown of confusion. “What do you mean? What didn’t you know?”

She just stared back at him, unable to say the words, to expose it to the open air. Illya stared back in silence, then his frown slowly faded. 

“Gaby?” 

She gave him an almost pleading look and all the tension left his body as he drew her close and pressed his forehead to hers. “ _Is this real?_ ” he breathed, then he was kissing her. Gaby closed her eyes and sighed into it, relieved and needy. She wrapped her arms around him, wanting him closer. 

When he finally pulled back, he kissed her tear spiked lashes and the side of her head as he tucked her against him. “You are not alone.” The words buzzed against her scalp, his breath ruffling her hair. “I am here. I am here with you and I’m not going anywhere.”

She pulled back to look at him, unable to stop the question or the way it tightened in her throat. “Because it’s your job?” 

His sigh was deep, and he caressed her cheek as his eyes fixed on hers. “About that—”

“You lied?” she hedged, seeking something, anything to regain her usual equilibrium. His gaze was so focused now, she felt like her every vulnerability was exposed, and there were far more of them than she would like to admit. 

She saw recognition in his eyes as his features softened. “No, it _is_ the safest option— for it to be one of your team. For it to me. It is not the _wisest_ option and I am pretty sure Solo tricked me but–” Gaby held her breath, her chest tight. “I wanted this. I wanted– I _want_ – you. Being with you is not a sacrifice... it’s a gift. Gaby, you are a gift.”

The words struck deep, stealing her thoughts, her breath. She was saved from having to speak by Illya pulling her close. He tucked her head beneath his chin and held her there, enveloping her and making her, once again, feel safe in a way she had never experienced. 

Wrapping her arms around his torso, Gaby held on tight. 

They stayed like that, his large hands caressing her arms, her back. “I tried for a very long time not to be in love with you,” he said, speaking the word that had been pulsing inside her unspoken. “But here I am.”

The confession eased her, soothed all the residual fear that had been clinging to her, and silenced all the hectic chatter in her mind. He loved her. She smiled against his chest, then made a little tsking sound before teasing him. “So unprofessional.”

He growled and the fingers over her ribs dug in, tickling her and drawing out an indignant squawk. “Don’t rub it in.”

“I can’t _believe_ I am in love with you,” she grumbled quietly, testing out the word and holding her breath for a reaction. His arms squeezed her tighter, then he was moving, hand cupping her jaw, tipping her up so he could kiss her soundly. 

“So, what now?” she asked when they parted, her voice uncharacteristically meek. She shivered in the open air and, without a word, Illya pulled the covers up over them, laying down on his back and settling her over his chest.

“We can talk about it in the morning.” His words held an air of foreboding and a sudden sinking feeling gripped her. She pushed up to see his face more clearly. When he looked back at her, she scowled. “You’re going to take yourself off my detail, aren’t you?”

His jaw flexed stubbornly. “I do not have a choice.”

“Yes you do, it’s your company!”

“That is exactly why I must.” He exhaled through his nose, his gaze roaming her face. “This compromises me and my ability to do my job. I cannot put you in danger.”

“You wouldn’t,” she insisted. “Never. Maybe other men would be distracted by this but not you.”

Illya’s gaze was softly stunned. “You believe in me that much?”

“Yes! You–” she drew in a shaky breath. “I need you there with me. I won’t have anyone else.”

He took a deep breath and it was like she could once more see that line of resolve draw him up. He’d made his decision. “Blackmail?” he asked. His voice was a chastising rumble, but she heard the hint of teasing there and she felt some of the tension dissolve. 

“If I have to,” she returned, lifting her chin.

Seriousness reasserted itself in his eyes. “No one can know.”

Gaby bit her lip. “So what are we going to do?”

He gave a little shake of his head but his gaze was steady, an anchor in the storm. “I have no idea,” he said tenderly. “But we will figure it out. Together.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I realize this is the second fic in a row that's like 90% Illya going down on Gaby, lol, but I actually wrote them half a year apart and, well, maybe no one is complaining? (Not even Illya)


End file.
